


the other one

by comsortegoya



Category: Mr. Robot (TV)
Genre: Communication, Dissociative Identity Disorder, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Late Night Conversations, Post-Season/Series 04, as in angela, host!elli has been given the biggest hangover by MM
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-30
Updated: 2020-08-30
Packaged: 2021-03-06 23:14:26
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,917
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26187016
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/comsortegoya/pseuds/comsortegoya
Summary: Post-season 4 finale. Host!Elliot and Mr. Robot have a long coming conversation about the events of the past year.
Relationships: Elliot Alderson & Mr. Robot
Comments: 2
Kudos: 24





	the other one

**Author's Note:**

> title from the ost (402.6_theotherone)  
> originally posted on Social Spirit in br-portuguese by yours truly. this is my first time translating something to english so. huh. let's hope it doesn't suck ass  
> many thanks to adoniss on the forementioned website! their comment gave me a kick in the nuts to finally translate this and actually try to post something in ao3

When Elliot wakes up, Mr Robot is sitting at the end of the bed.

The tiredness is immediate, nevermind the last hours of sleep. Elliot sits up with heavy shoulders. It's been a week since he woke up and this is the first time that Robot shows up.

"What the hell, man?" he asks, his voice an unsteady breath entirely removed from the anger of which Elliot would like to display. It's a soft murmur and Elliot turns towards the bedside alarm, feeling defeated before even starting. He only hears Mr Robot's answer sigh.

It's 03:00 AM. After they returned from the hospital, Darlene made him promise that he would try to sleep eight hours - the digital alarm clock was a gift from her, in line with that promise. Today, Elliot's clearly not getting more than five.

"Wasn't sure you'd want to see my mug again," Mr Robot finally speaks, the tone to that of someone walking on egg shells. Elliot still doesn't look at him, rising out of the bed with a snap of frail bones, for a beeline to the kitchen sink. He needs to get the bitter taste out of his throat.

Elliot half expects Robot to follow him and force to meet his eyes, his speech. Except there's no following sound of someone rising from the bed. Curiosity is what makes Elliot turn, minimally, back.

Robot, said and done, remains where Elliot had left him. He's miserable, which would not be so out of formula if it was only limited to his clothes. For the first time in his life, Mr Robot looks self-conscious. His cap is crushed between his hands and tentatively, he shrugs, distinctly uncertain with his own words, "Would it mean anything, saying he regrets it?"

 _He_. Elliot turns back to the sink and turns the faucet with more force than needed, choosing to drink the water straight from the tap. _Him_.

When Elliot was first diagnosed, he'd already had an entire childhood with Mr Robot. Suffice to say, he wasn't worried - even after hearing that other alters would eventually show up. Things worked, however unusual they might've been. Elliot never thought he would have to worry, but clearly, he'd been wrong.

He closes the faucet with the same force he'd turned it on and lets a remaining stream, running from the corner of his mouth, drip onto the sink for long seconds.

Elliot doesn't want explanations or answers. Darlene had already told everything that had happened in the last year and he already wanted to forget what had learned. There's no words that Robot, or the other one, could speak, that'd make him feel good again.

He finallys pulls a towel to dry his mouth. "Clearly not enough," returns to the conversation, his voice muffled by the rough fabric. Elliot turns back to Robot, "Or he'd be here."

Robot sighs, his chest sinking with the weight of it. "It's not that simple."

"He locked me up for a whole year, but now can't get out. That's it?"

"He's on sabbatical."

Elliot throws the towel back at the sink, shoulders hard. " _Stop defending him!_ "

Robot turns his face away, eyes downcast. His voice, similarly, is lowered to a murmur when he responds, "It's my job to defend all of you, kiddo."

And he was part of them all now, wasn't he?

"Why didn't you defend _me_ , then?" Elliod pleads. He presses his hards over the sink and lets his lower back fall against it, brokenly. "One year. Jesus _fucking_ christ."

There's a beat of silence. Elliot remains lying against the sink and Mr Robot remains gaunt on bed, cap in hands.

"Darlene filled you in?" the latter asks, voice low.

"Been a week," Elliot says; he takes a deep breath. "Of course she did."

Robot looks down, mulling over the 'week' bit. Elliot doesn't care about it. He sighs heavily and continues.

"She told me all you did, too."

It's not false to say that Mr Robot had brought Elliot problems through out life. He'd been a foreign presence and then a roomie of difficult communication. Elliot and Robot didn't always agree on the definion of 'best' to the former and to the system. But then, everything came to protection at the end of the day, however chaotic it was.

Hearing from Darlene what Robot had been up to the last year hadn't been out of character, exactly, but it was certainly an extreme version. He was also a radical, Elliot always knew. The revolution had been his too.

Mr Robot knows that Elliot knows, as he seems to squeeze the cap even more. He remains silent and awaits the bullet - and Elliot shoots him, hands clinging to the edge of the sink.

"You were in it."

Robot opens his mouth, " _Hey!-_ "

Elliot doesn't give a shit. "It was you that formed fsociety, who led this mess. You're as guilty as he is!"

Robot rises out of the bed, suddenly alive. He raises a finger.

"He did what he did because the world wasn't safe for you!" starts. Elliot sighs heavily and hides his face in one hand, the indefinability of what he felt overwhelming even his impending anger. Robot, anyway, continues, "The kid was disillusioned - if it wasn't fixed, you wouldn't be able to come back."

" _Bullshit_ ," Elliot spits, taking his face out of his hand. "Stop pretending your priority is my well-being. There's a bullet scar on my stomach. How you explain it?"

Robot opens his mouth and immediately closes it. He struggles with his words.

"My fights with Elliot-"

" _Dude._ "

"My fights with _him_ ," Robot rasps, "went brutal most of the time. It's my fault and I'm gonna have to live with it. I got tired and what I did was wrong. None of you deserved that."

"But you kept the revolution going."

"I- of course I kept it going!" Robot throws his hands to the air. "The world was dangerous. You had a student debt longer than my forearm, everyone demanded something you couldn't give and the world had been designed to fuck us at every corner. He wasn't wrong! And if fixing the world was what it took to put everything back in the right place-"

Robot shrugs, still angry. "I didn't see a bad side."

"Angela _died_ ," Elliot aswers him, in the same beat. The fire, to both of them, dies at a distressing speed.

Elliot feel like some mangled animal - as if the bullet never came out, except that instead of resting in his belly, it was in his chest. The metal of the sink is cold; the fabric of his sweater is rough; the dark hurts his eyes. He wants to go back to sleep again.

Mr. Robot looks at him with worry. He responds soflty, "And it wasn't supposed to happen," says, suddenly as mild as he'd been, on multiple occasions, to Elliot, 20 years ago. "The plan was just fsociety. But as always..." Robot sighs. He shrugs again; puts the cap on his head and his hands in his pockets, "Those in power used it to control people even more."

Robot approaches Elliot tentatively, not letting the silence last. "He...he was angry and didn't know what to do with it," he comes to a stop by the sink, also leaning against it. "I gave a way out and continued it when the kid got scared. It was so you could get out, but...there _was_ a line of self-interest. I've always been disillusioned with this world too. I couldn't blame him for trying to hide you from it."

Robot stops talking. Besides Elliot, he's in a twin position, down to the blue. His drooping back and tired face contribute to the image of an exhausted old man. Mr Robot had spent his entire life taking care of Elliot and for the last year, had to dedicate himself to yet another; if this task was heavier, or just the weight of everything had fallen at last, he seems on the edge of an abyss.

Elliot feels the spite leave him. Robot came about because he'd needed a father, but the man developed beyond that. Of course he would also try to correct the world's mistakes.

But even then.

"Why did you take so long to tell him?"

 _About you, about me, about him_.

If it was only to keep the revolution going, the explanation was obvious already, but Elliot wondered if there could be another reason. It was the only detail he didn't understand. How _he_ himself had forgotten about not being the real one - however subjective the word was.

Robot sighs, running a hand over his face, under the glasses. "What do you mean?"

"That he wasn't...me. He didn't know about you either, at first."

Robot shrugs.

"If I explained one, would had to do so to the whole rest. If I told who I was, he'd have to know about your dad. He...he made you forget for a reason, Elli. He didn't want to remember either; and I didn't want to be the one to make him."

Elliot is silent.

"I didn't tell about you because it would break him. The kid started it all for you, but at the final line, he was whole. I told him that you were the real one, in the loop, but that was a misstep. He's as real as you. Having to send him away...it would be torture. And I'd already hurt him too much."

The Protector, they'd said.

Elliot realizes something. "You were the one that didn't let him come here, weren't you?"

"I haven't got a clue what you're going about."

He shakes his head. "Nevermind," Elliot scratches his eyes.

Robot was still Robot; the truth didn't come easy to him. Just saying all that had been more than he normally would. There was no need to force the man any further.

Elliot looks at him from the corner of his eye. "I don't forgive him. Don't think I ever will-" Robot withers, "-but...I get him. Can you tell that for me?"

Robot exhales, expression soft. "Of course, son."

Elliot similarly takes a breath, averting his face. He takes a hand off the cold of the sink to run it over his eyes. Sleep is coming back.

"It's late," Robot agrees. He makes a face, "Or early. Go to sleep. We can talk more later, when itsn't the asscrack of dawn."

Elliot shakes his head. "We won't," he's lucky to have spoken this openly with Mr Robot now. It will hardly be a double ocurrence; and Elliot doesn't require it. As said - there's no words. The only thing he wants is to be able to live again.

"Not about this," Robot speaks. He watches Elliot go to bed, standing against the sink, "Just anything else. It's been a year," his words sound suddenly sad, although the tone is hidden as quickly as it appears. Robot smiles. "And Magda will want to talk to you. She's been worried."

Elliot sinks his face into the pillow. "That's a lie."

Robot's laughter sounds close. Elliot knows that if he opens his eyes, he would suddenly see him besides the bed; maybe against the table, or the inexisting bedframe. He doesn't mind opening them.

"Just wait," Mr Robot says. Elliot feels him tidying up the bed sheet, the way it covered him completely.

"Sleep now. We'll see you soon."

"Hm," Elliot answers him. And he sleeps; until dawn.

**Author's Note:**

> this will have follow-ups. maybe.
> 
> my tumblr is [punksalmon](punksalmon.tumblr.com) and my SS account is [comsortegoya](https://www.spiritfanfiction.com/perfil/oh_rache). there's only portuguese stuff there tho, i'm only saying so the admins from there won't bomb this thinking it's a rip off  
> thanks for reading!


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